Both Mugo and his fellow villager Gikonyo carry the burden of guilt for secret crimes that they harbor for years, which mentally torment them. Although both men try to run from their guilt, they eventually realize they will only find relief and redemption when they willingly admit to their mistakes and face the consequences. Through Mugo’s and Gikonyo’s respective journeys, A Grain of Wheat argues that redemption and freedom from guilt can only be gained by open confession and willingness to face the consequences of one’s actions.
Both Mugo and Gikonyo carry shameful secrets, spoken to no one. Although there is little chance of either of them being found out, the burden of guilt mentally torments them, demonstrating the excruciating burden that hidden guilt becomes. Although the Thabai villagers mistakenly view Mugo as a brave, noble hero who gave shelter to Kihika, it is revealed in the final act of the story that Mugo is responsible for his death, betraying Kihika to John Thompson to save himself from the power of the whiteman. Although it is impossible for this to be discovered and his fellow villagers want to make Mugo a chief and a leader, Mugo is tortured by guilt, demonstrating how the internal burden of guilt can haunt and overwhelm one’s worldly successes, denying them any peace. Like Mugo, Gikonyo also carries the shame of betrayal. In the detention camp, Gikonyo breaks his oath to the Mau Mau by confessing to be part of the resistance, hoping—in vain—that he will be released. Like Mugo, Gikonyo is haunted by his betrayal, imagining that he hears the footsteps of his guilt walking behind him at all hours. This pent-up shame makes Gikonyo violently reject his wife, Mumbi, when he discovers, upon returning home, that she has had another man’s child. Gikonyo’s rage, though directed at Mumbi, is truly towards himself for his own cowardice, illustrating the way in which harbored guilt affects not only oneself, but the people around them.
Both men discover that the only way to be free of their burdensome guilt is through honest admission of their crimes. After Mumbi confides the details of her adultery to Mugo, Mugo is touched, and experiences his first taste of relief from guilt when he confesses his complicity in Kihika’s murder to Mumbi, who is Kihika’s own sister. Although he expects Mumbi to hate him for this, she pities him instead, seeing what a burden he carries, especially since the village has adopted him as their new hero of the freedom fight. Although Mumbi elects not to reveal Mugo as a traitor, the relief that Mugo feels in confessing makes him realize that he must tell the truth in front of the entire village, which he does several days later, modeling the only way to be free of such oppressive guilt and shame.
Like Mugo, Gikonyo finds a small amount of relief from his guilt when he confesses his betrayal to Mugo. However, Gikonyo does not yet find the same courage to confess his betrayal to his countrymen and so is not entirely relieved of his burden. Gikonyo’s persistent guilt suggests that to be freed from it, one must confess their crime to all who were betrayed by it. Since Gikonyo’s betrayal was of a national cause, he will have to confess before his entire village to be truly free.
Mugo’s crime is grave and carries a death sentence. However, his willingness to face this consequence redeems him in the eyes of the community and inspires others, including Gikonyo, to be honest and brave. Mugo’s journey suggests that, by taking account of one’s crimes and accepting the due consequences, one may find redemption, if not physical freedom. Mugo confesses to his crime in front of the entire village, expecting that he will be torn limb from limb. Instead, the village is so stunned that their new hero has just admitted to betrayal that he is simply allowed to leave. Rather than hating Mugo for betraying their hero, the villagers believe that Mugo is the bravest and most noble of them all, since he willingly sacrificed his role as a village chief and the accompanying wealth and power to tell the truth.
The village’s response to Mugo’s confession perfectly illustrates the redemption that can come with admitting and owning one’s guilt. Rather than giving Mugo a shameful and public death, two of Kihika’s comrades take Mugo privately away to execute him with as much dignity as possible. This, too, demonstrates Mugo’s redemption in the eyes of his village. Mugo’s courage also inspires others in the village. Although Gikonyo does not publicly confess before the end of the story, Mugo’s example leaves him resolved to do so, as well as to reconcile himself to Mumbi, ending the story on a hopeful note. Mugo’s sacrifice brings not only redemption for himself, but plants the seed of redemption for Gikonyo as well, thus demonstrating the manner in which one’s own redemption can positively impact an entire community.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Guilt and Redemption ThemeTracker
Guilt and Redemption Quotes in A Grain of Wheat
[Mugo] had always found it difficult to make decisions. Recoiling as if by instinct from setting in motion a course of action whose consequences he could not determine before the start, he allowed himself to drift into things or be pushed into them by an uncanny demon; he rode on the wave of circumstance and lay against the crest, fearing but fascinated by fate.
At Githima, people believed that a complaint from [Karanja] was enough to make a man lose his job. Karanja knew their fears. Often when men came into his office, he would suddenly cast them a cold eye, drop hints, or simply growl at them; in this way, he increased their fears and insecurity. But he also feared the men and alternated this fierce prose with servile friendliness.
“Many of us talked like that because we wanted to deceive ourselves. It lessens your shame. We talked of loyalty to the Movement and the love of our country. You know a time came when I did not care about Uhuru for the country anymore. I just wanted to come home.”
In Kenya we want deaths which will change things, that is to say, we want true sacrifice. But first we have to be ready to carry the cross. I die for you, you die for me, we become a sacrifice for one another. So I can say that you, Karanja, are Christ. Everybody who takes the Oath of Unity to change things in Kenya is a Christ.
Gikonyo greedily sucked sour pleasure from this reflection which he saw as a terrible revelation. To live and die alone is the ultimate truth.
“As for carrying a gun for the whiteman, well, a time will come when you too will know that every man in the world is alone, and fights alone, to live.”
A big lump blocked Mugo’s throat. Something heaved forth; he trembled; he was at the bottom of the pool, but up there, above the pool, ran the earth; life, struggle, even amidst pain and blood and poverty, seemed beautiful; only for a moment; how dared he believe in such a vision, an illusion?
“It makes his life more interesting to himself. He invents a meaning for his life, you see. Don’t we all do that? And to die fighting for freedom sounds more heroic than to die by accident.”
The man who had suffered so much had further revealed his greatness in modesty. By refusing to lead, Mugo had become a legendary hero.
“I despise the weak. Why? Because the weak need not remain weak. Listen! Our fathers fought bravely. But do you know the biggest weapon unleashed by the enemy against them? It was not the Maxim gun. It was the division amongst them. Why? Because a people united in faith are stronger than the bomb. They shall not tremble or run away before the sword.”
“But what is an oath? For some people, you need the oath to bind them to the Movement. There are those who’ll keep a secret unless bound by an oath. I know them […] In any case how many took the oath and are now licking the toes of the whiteman? No, you take an oath to confirm a choice already made. The decision to lay or not to lay your life on the line for the people lies in the heart. The oath is water sprinkled on a man’s head at baptism.”
I am important. I must not die. To keep myself alive, healthy, strong—to wait for my mission in life is a duty to myself, to men and women of tomorrow. If Moses had died in the reeds, who would ever have known that he was destined to be a great man?
Then, somehow, [Karanja] had not felt guilty. When he shot [Freedom Fighters], they seemed less like human beings and more like animals. At first this had merely thrilled Karanja and made him feel a new man, a part of an invisible might whose symbol was the whiteman. Later, this consciousness of power, this ability to dispose of human life by merely pulling a trigger, so obsessed him that it became a need. Now, that power had gone.
Courage had failed [Gikonyo], he had confessed the oath in spite of his vows to the contrary. What difference was there between him and Karanja or Mugo who had openly betrayed people and worked with the whiteman to save themselves? Mugo had the courage to face his guilt and lose everything. Gikonyo shuddered at the thought of losing everything.
